


Moving On

by Crysania



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6975553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Belle finds out about the dogs left languishing in the Underworld shelter, she finds a new mission for her and Rumplestiltskin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

He finds her back at the Animal Shelter. She’s standing at the counter, staring at the bowls left behind. Filled with slop that he wouldn’t have imagined feeding _any_ dog, they’re starting to smell rancid. Yet there Belle stands, twisting one bowl back and forth and back and forth and staring off somewhere to her right.

“Belle,” he finally says when it’s clear she’s not noticed him and isn’t likely to.

She starts and then her eyes finally come back into focus and she turns to him. “Rumple?”

He shakes his head, eyebrows low over his eyes. “What are you doing here? Gaston’s…”

“Gone,” she responds with, the word flat. “I know.” There’s a darkness there that he’s not heard before and he feels his heart wrench just a little bit. He wants her to understand, to love him as he is and not some idealized version of himself that she wants but can never have.

“Then…”

She waves a hand but stays silent and he can see the plea in her eyes. He’s missing something. This isn’t about Gaston. It can’t be. They’ve talked about it, around and around in circles until she was exhausted and had cried herself out. She didn’t love the man. She had _never_ loved the arrogant hunter. But she hadn’t wanted him destroyed in such a way. But she’s come to understand. She protected her loved ones. Him, and through saving him, their child. It was what _had_ to be done in that moment. Anything else may have resulted in Gaston moving on, but his death…as it were.

She finally mutters something that he can’t quite hear and he takes a step closer to her. “The…”

She gives a sigh and he can see that there’s a bit of wetness at the corner of her eyes. “The dogs, Rumple. The _dogs_.”

“The…”

“Don’t you see? Why are _they_ here? They must have unfinished business too and yet they’re languishing in this shelter and they can’t complete it and they’re just here _forever_.”

And then he realizes and his heart gives a little flip. Belle has always loved animals. Dogs, cats, horses. He once even saw her move a turtle out of the road and once, despite everyone’s horror, she walked into a house and rescued the gigantic snake that had taken up residence there. He was ready with a bit of anti-venom magic just in case. But she did it without a care for herself.

Because she’s Belle.

“So you…”

“Want to help them,” Belle finishes with.

“Belle,” he says and he’s not sure if it’s a warning or just simply indulgent. He really doesn’t know _anything_ anymore. She throws off his equilibrium at every turn these days. They’re either fighting, making love, or fighting _while_ making love. It’s…well…it’s something. He’s not quite sure what nor where it’s going to go. But for now she’s _with him_ and _loves him_ and she’s told him that her words about seeing him for who he really was were not a ploy. They were true. And he can see in her eyes the truth of that statement.

They are not perfect.

They never will be.

But they are here and together and will figure things out.

“I’m not sure what we could do,” he starts to say, but then turns and realizes the dogs are watching them. Watching. They’ve all quieted down. All together there are probably some thirty of them, beautiful fluffy purebreds, scruffy mutts, and everything in between. There’s one brindle dog whose eyes almost seem human. _Almost_.

And then he’s sighing and before he can even realize what he’s doing, he’s agreeing to this insane plan. He wonders, vaguely, if Hades will sense the dogs moving onto their just rewards.

Belle is hugging him and he knows he’s done the right thing. Even if a part of him thinks it’s a ridiculous thing.

He does love dogs though. And he’s sure Belle remembers that. She forgets _nothing_. Not their fights, not their kinder moments. She still teases him over his lame attempts at flirting over their first date at Granny’s. _Condiments are this world’s most powerful magic_. She smirks when she brings it up and he knows it’s all done in good humor. So he accepts that he’s not the suave bastard he wishes he was and thanks his lucky stars that Belle seems to dislike those suave bastards anyway. He’s heard enough of what she thinks of Hook after all, and now Gaston, _the vainest man in all the land_. It has a nice ring to it. He’s sure someone could write a song about it.

“Alright,” he finally says, pushing back from her. “How do we do this?”

She bites her lip and he has to stop himself from suggesting they first take care of _something else_. This is no time for a quick shag in the backroom of the animal shelter. Belle is clearly on a mission as she moves past him. Her mind is made up and she has a plan. He does so love the way her mind works. She can think through the possibilities in mere moments and settle on a plan of attack that not only makes sense, but _works_. The _heroes_ really should make more use of her. He’s pretty sure if they set her to figuring out how to defeat Hades, they would have been out of the Underworld by now.

But that’s not Belle’s goal.

At least not currently.

There are _dogs_ to save.

And he supposes that for now, he could focus his energy there.

“There are cards on each dog’s cage,” Belle is saying as he steps by her. She’s standing in front of a cage off to the left. The dog in it is small, some sort of tiny white poodle, standing on its hind legs and yapping. Loudly. He waves his hand and the poodle stops. Well, the mouth doesn’t stop moving, but the sound does. “Did you just…” Belle starts to ask.

“Yes,” Rumplestiltskin answers with and grins at her.

She shakes her head and returns to the card. “Maybe there’s a clue here.”

He takes the card from her and glances down. “Foufou is a toy poodle.” He looks at the silently yapping little thing. “Foufou…who names a dog Foufou?”

“Rumple,” Belle says and while the word is stern, he can hear the amusement in her voice.

“Alright, alright.” He reads the card quickly. “It appears that Foufou’s owner died in a car accident.” His voice softens as he continues. “And Foufou got separated…” He stops there. Belle won’t like the end of the story. He knows her tender heart.

He watches as she stands up a little straighter, squares her shoulders. “Go on.”

“Foufou wandered alone for days. She wasn’t equipped to live in the wilderness. She…” He swallows hard. “She died of starvation a few weeks after her owner died.”

He watches Belle take a deep breath. “And ended up here.”

“And ended up here,” Rumplestiltskin confirms.

Belle takes another deep breath. “Well, that’s easy then. We just have to find her owner and reunite them.” She squats down and watches the little dog. She’s still yapping silently, clawing at the mesh of the cage. “Can you…”

Rumple nods and waves a hand. The lock disappears and before he can even blink the dog is in Belle’s arms. “A leash?”

He shakes his head in amusement but does as she says, grabbing the nearest leash and starting to hold it out. His mouth quirks into a smirk and Belle narrows her eyes at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to…” And she knows what he means. For a moment, she bites her lips and doesn’t that just go straight to his groin?

“Rumple no.” She clips the leash on the little dog and sets her on the ground. He turns away with a sigh, but then feels her hand come up and touch his arm briefly. “Maybe later,” she murmurs and with a smirk, he follows her out of the shelter, little Foufou following behind them.

* * *

They’ve searched high and low for little Foufou’s owner, walking the length and breadth of the Underworld's version of Storybrooke. Belle is complaining of aching feet and he can see that her enthusiasm is flagging.

"Come on," he finally says. "Let's go to the diner."

Her head shoots up at that. He didn't even realize she was leaning so heavy against him, so light is her body. "The diner is here?"

He laughs. "Everything is here. Though…I suppose it's not quite as you would expect." He leads her there anyway, stepping over the threshold behind her. It's quiet there, the regulars sitting at their booths and staring at their food and not talking to each other. A feeling of utter despair hangs over the place, the sad denizens of a town who are stuck in their sad little lives. Unlives. Whatever they are there.

"Oh, ohhhh…" comes the voice from behind the counter. "I think I smell…" He watches as the witch leans forward, her sightless eyes moving back and forth. "Is that a baby? Oh yes, I think I smell... _pregnancy_." And she licks her lips.

Belle's hand strays to her stomach and he can almost _hear_ her thoughts. "Don't pay her any mind."

"But…"

"Seriously." He waves one hand. "It's all show. She can't touch you." He touches Belle's hair briefly, tweaks her nose, before turning away. "We're looking for someone."

The witch behind the counter leans forward. "What do they look like?" she says and then laughs, high-pitched and eerie. Rumplestiltskin shudders.

"Would I be asking you if I knew?"

She shrugs, wipes the rag she's holding across the counter. "So then tell me about the person. I…might know them. Especially if they're a _child_."

Belle looks like she's going to go across the counter at the witch so he holds up a hand. "They'd be asking about a dog."

The witch sniffs again. "Yes. Yes there might be someone around looking for a dog." She stops there and Rumplestiltskin sighs. "Would you like.."

"No."

"Did someone say something about a dog." Belle and Rumplestiltskin turn as one to face the small elderly woman behind them. Even Belle has to look down to meet her eyes. Her white hair flies about her head as she stares up at them and her eyes finally focus on the bundle that Belle is holding.

"Foufou?" Her eyes widen as she holds thin arms out toward the dog.

"She's yours?"

"My baby!" The dog is wiggling her arms, tongue lapping at the woman's nose, her cheeks, anywhere she can reach. And there are tears in the woman's eyes.

The witch behind the counter gives a little gasp and claps her hands together. "Another one!"

Almost as one the other patrons look up and for a moment the stink of despair is lifted from the small diner. There's a small noise and a rainbow of light floods in from above, darting down into the room. It seems insubstantial and yet substantial at the same time. Rumplestiltskin and Belle step back and they can still hear the witch's cackle of glee.

The elderly woman, dog in her arms, steps forward, toward the rainbow. And then she's gone, the rainbow dissipating and the rest of the patrons returning to stare at their tables, the despair creeping back, like vines that will not let go.

"Rumple," Belle breathed. "They've gone."

He nods. "Moved on," he confirms.

Her smile as she leans in to hug him is huge. "We did it!"

"We did." 

* * *

 

Belle slumps into the chair at the shelter. It’s been a long, exhausting week. But the shelter is almost free of dogs. Once they connected that first woman with her lost poodle, the inquiries just started to flood in.

_I heard you might have my dog_.

_Oh my gosh, that’s my Rex!_

They took dogs out about the town and waited for people to come to _them_ , to recognize their long lost dogs. And soon people were flooding into the animal shelter in search of their lost pets. They never knew, they insisted. They didn’t know the shelter was there. They only knew they searched for _something_ and that first meeting had somehow opened the floodgates. People suddenly _knew_ what their unfinished business was.

_Pepper!_

_Is that my Duke? I never thought I'd see you again._

_Stanley! Oh my Stanley!_

Over 25 dogs in all had completed their business and gone home. Some leaving with their owners, some rushing through that rainbow to meet their owners and other canine friends. Belle had asked Rumplestiltskin about the rainbow and he told of her an old legend, of a rainbow bridge that animals wait on the other side of for their people to come home. It was sweet and watching each of those people and their dogs crossing over had warmed her heart.

But she’s tired. And each day she waits for Hades to come to them, to try to stop them. He hasn’t. She doesn’t know why. She can only imagine there must be some reason for his absence. Rumplestiltskin tells her that he knows he’s angry, but it appears his focus is elsewhere. For the time being at least.

“Only two more left,” Rumplestiltskin murmurs, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

“Two more,” she responds with. “We can do this.”

“Maybe we should…”

“No,” she says quickly. “No breaks.” She sighs and pushes herself off the chair. “If I take a break, I’ll probably never get back up.”

“Belle,” he says, the word coming out with just a little bit of a growl. She knows what he wants to say, she knows he’s protecting her and the baby. _The baby_. Her hand comes to rest on her stomach for just a moment. There’s no changes there, not yet. It’s still too soon, too soon even for _her_ to know. But magic has told her the baby is there, developing, probably nothing more than a handful of cells at this point. _But she knows_ and _he_ knows and perhaps that’s the most important thing. They’re in this one together, come hell or not. 

“I know, I know. But there are only two left.”

He nods then and holds out a hand. She takes it, warm and sure in her own. She likes the feel of his hands. There’s a strength there, a power that is about more than just his magic. He is sure of himself, she realizes. Confident where before he was hesitant, bold where before he was tentative. He is sure of _her_ and somehow that makes her just a little bit giddy. “Come then,” he says and his voice is soft but steady. He leads her back over to the cages where only two wait to find their homes, only two wait to cross that bridge to the other side.

The one on the left is a large dog, brindle. The card says he’s some sort of pit bull mix and she’d believe it with that large blocky head of his. He watches her and his steady gaze is almost unnerving, as if he somehow _knows_ what they are there about. But he’s mournful too, deep wrinkles in a worried brow, the weight of the world hangs over him. His story is not simple. She knows this somehow and as she reads the card, she feels the tears well up.

_Meet Roscoe. Roscoe is an approximately 2 year old pit bull terrier mix. Roscoe ended up here after he raced back into a fire to save his owner’s young son Billy. Overcome by both heat and smoke, neither Roscoe nor Billy made it out of the fire alive. Won’t you perhaps find Billy for this handsome young lad?_

“Oh Rumple.” She watches the dog who watches her back.

“There are children.” His voice is soft. “Milah…my ex-wife…she was watching them” He gives her a crooked grin at that. “Part of her punishment I suppose. She abandoned our son and spent an eternity looking after other people’s dead children instead.”

She raises one eyebrow. “Was that _her_ punishment? Or the kids’?”

He lets out a small huff of laughter and then shrugs. “I’m not really sure, to be honest.”

“Are you ready to face her again?” Belle asks, opening up the door and clipping a leash to Roscoe’s collar. He’s a quiet dog, subdued. Many of the dogs rushed out of their kennel, ready to get about their business, to find their people, but not Roscoe. He slinks. He looks almost ashamed. She’s never quite thought dogs were _human_ but there’s more there than meets the eyes, that’s for sure. Roscoe is depressed. He failed. _That_ is why he’s here. He can’t move on because he failed at his duty. It’s a heartbreaking thing, seeing a dog so broken.

“Yes, well…about that…”

“Do I want to know?”

He glances at the floor, looks off to the side. “Probably not.”

“Then…”

“She went the same way as Gaston,” he says simply.

She says nothing, bites her lip, leans down to scratch absently at Roscoe’s big head.

“By my hand.”

“Oh,” she finally says, all the weight of the world behind that one tiny syllable.

“It was to protect you.” The words are quiet and for a moment there’s nothing but silence. Silence and her breaths coming faster than she wants. Then he adds. “And our child. I had no choice.”

“No…”

“Just as you didn’t,” he points out. They’ve been through this, Belle knows. She had no choice, she did what had to be done, Gaston would not have stopped until either he was in the river or Rumplestiltskin was.

“Right.” She takes a deep breath. What else can she say? She either forgives him, understands him as he understands her, or she walks out. Again. “So now we look for Billy?”

He nods and offers her his arm. Together they leave the shelter. There's a new understanding between them. Tenuous at best. But it's there.

* * *

Finding Billy isn't as hard as it should have been. The three of them, Rumplestiltskin, Belle and Roscoe, make their way to what is apparently the Underworld school. She tries not to think too hard on it. These are all children. They are all dead long before it was their time. They all have unfinished business. How long they had been there, she couldn't imagine. Some, like Gaston, had been there for hundreds of years. Some had only just arrived.

"Billy?" says the secretary at the front desk. She's a dour woman, bushy eyebrows pulled low over heavy eyelids. She has unfinished business too and Belle wonders what it is.

"Yes," Belle responds with, sparing a glance at Rumplestiltskin. He nods and she continues. "We're sure that's his name."

"Quiet kid," the woman finally says. "Unhappy. Of course, they all are." The last is said with a small sneer. The children have unfinished business too. She tries not to think on that too hard. If she does, she’ll try to find a way out for them as well. And Rumplestiltskin has reminded her, time and time again, that their time there is short and they _must_ return. The others are searching for a way out even now, while they use what time they have left to help these dogs find their way home.

“And so could you…” Rumplestiltskin starts to say and the woman jumps, just slightly. Belle suspects she knows who he is but won’t say it. Saying it will somehow make it real. And it’s easier to ignore it otherwise. Belle knows that feeling all too well.

“Of course.” She picks up the phone sitting at her side, a great big thing with a large handset and a long cord. Belle almost wants to giggle. It’s just so ridiculous. It’s the _Underworld_. Couldn’t they just…snap their fingers and the child would appear?

But no, they have to go through _normal_ channels. As if anything down there is normal. Not even the sky, which is tinged with red, as if the blood of the millions of people had colored their strange little world.

She shudders at the thought.

The sooner they’re done with this, the better.

The sooner they can get home.

The sooner they can resume their lives, whatever that might entail. She tries not to think on it too hard. There are too many _issues_ and _problems_ and conversations to be had that she's really not certain she wants to have. Now. Or _ever_.

The woman finally returns with a small boy in tow. Belle's not sure _what_ she expected, but he's smaller, looks younger than she had imaged. He won’t look at them as he’s pulled around the corner and brought up short. “Mr. Fletcher,” the woman says and her voice is sharp. Belle shudders, remembering stern governesses far more than she’d like to. She glances briefly at Rumplestiltskin and wonders what his childhood was like. He’s been so closed up about it all these years.

The boy mumbles something that Belle cannot hear, but she watches Rumplestiltskin’s eyebrow raise. “So you don’t want to see Roscoe then?”

The boy doesn’t move but she can see the way he sort of freezes in place, the shoulders stiffening. His head is still tilted down. He won’t meet their eyes. He mumbles something else.

“Mr. Fletcher,” comes the voice of the woman who still has a hand on his shoulder. “How many times have we told you to speak up? Do I need to get out the…”

“No,” Billy says and his voice is finally loud enough to be heard. “No,” he repeats, quieter. Belle isn’t sure she wants to know what _the_ refers to. The Underworld is no place for children and she reaches a hand down to touch her belly. This is no place for _her_ child either.

"Roscoe didn't come for me," Billy finally says and he breaks free of the woman holding him, rushes off. Gold heaves a sigh and Belle just shakes her head.

"Let me," she says, putting a hand on his arm briefly. He meets her eyes and there's uncertainty there, but also _something_. He finally nods and she heads off after Billy.

She finds the boy in one of the abandoned classrooms. There are children here, certainly, but the school is not full up. Not yet. "Billy?"

"What do you want?" comes the sullen reply.

"Roscoe would really like to see you," she says as she steps into the empty room, shivering slightly at the chill. Billy crosses his arms over his small chest and turns away.

"He didn't save me." His voice cracks on the last word.

"He tried." She sinks down on the floor next to him and leans over, brushing her shoulder against the young boy's briefly.

"He…"

Belle turns to him then. "You didn't know?"

Billy just watches her for a moment, his face scrunched up.

"You didn't," she confirms. Roscoe was pulled from the fire but he went back in, Billy. He went back in for you. But before he could find you, he was overcome by the smoke. He died in the same fire you did. _That_ is why he's here."

She's never seen a child move quite so fast. He leaps to his feet and races from the room. He's back a moment later though, giving her a quick hug and then running back the way he came from.

"Now see here!" the woman is saying as Billy races past her. Belle glares at her as she follows and then Billy is falling on Roscoe who has _finally_ come alive, his tail wagging so hard that his whole back end is moving with it. His mouth opens in one of those great big grins that only breeds of his type can have. Wide mouth, tongue lolling out, eyes squinted half shut. A moment later the rainbow breaks through the ceiling, filling the room with bright multi-colored light.

She sees Billy wave to her and Roscoe wrapped around him for just one moment more and then they're gone, the rainbow dissipating and leaving their world red-tinged and grey once more.

"What was that?" the woman asks, her hand still grasping at the air as if she can somehow pull the young boy and his dog back. Gold just gives her a scathing look and pulls Belle out of the building.

It's almost over.

* * *

There's only one dog left. It's a mangy looking thing, hidden away in the back of the kennel. When they approach, the dog snarls at them and huddles further in the back. _Fear_ , Rumplestiltskin says. He knows dogs. She sometimes forgets that. The intimidating sorcerer, the man whose mere _name_ makes people quake in their boots, was once a spinner and a shepherd. She _knows_ this. But still, sometimes it’s almost disconcerting, watching the way his eyes soften when he sees a dog and trying to reconcile that with the man others see.

“Let me?” His voice is soft as he approaches the cage and Belle happily backs away. She doesn’t know dogs. Not like he does. She likes dogs, certainly. Dogs and cats and horses and any other animal with four legs and fur. But she doesn’t _know_ them like he does. And this one is more than she feels she can handle.

“Abandoned,” Rumplestiltskin mutters as he reads the card.

“No family?” She feels her heart constrict. Is this the one they cannot save? The only dog left in the pound, no family to come running for it, no one take it home across the bridge.

He shakes his head and she can see the lines between his eyebrows, at the corners of his mouth. “None. It seems she died alone and unloved in a shelter. Picked up as a stray, never claimed, and never adopted.”

“She was…”

“Euthanized for space,” he finishes.

Belle makes a harsh noise in the back of her throat. “Killed, you mean.”

“By well-meaning people.” He’s hedging around the truth. There’s no way to save this animal.

“Is there nothing we can do?” She just barely manages to choke the words out.

She watches as he takes a deep breath, pressing his hand against the cage. “I don’t know.”

"Should we…" She doesn't know what she means to say, really, so waves her hand at the cage. _Should we let her out? Should we do…something?_ Anything. She has vowed to see this through and now there's no way to do that. This one is alone, nameless, unloved. "We have to leave her here, don't we?" This isn't what she wants, what she's planned. Find their people, send them on, then get out. _That_ is what she wants. Save them, save herself, save their baby.

Rumplestiltskin shakes his head and there's a furrow between his brows. "Step back," he finally says as he steps toward the cage.

"I…"

He turns to her then. "Step back," he reiterates. "If she's aggressive…" He lets the words hang. _There could be a reason she's here…_ The Underworld is full of people who ended up there due to their own violent tendencies. Cruella, Gaston, that witch who owns the diner. Why couldn't some of the dogs?

And indeed, when Rumplestiltskin steps forward and opens the door, the dog pulls herself further back into the cage and her lips turn up in a near silent growl. She expects him to back out, shut the door. But he doesn't and so she watches in amazement as he lowers himself to the ground and sits with his back against the side of the cage.

"What are you…"

He holds up a hand she falls quiet. He remains where he is. Just sitting. Waiting. For something. She doesn't know what. He leans back, closes his eyes and Belle takes a few steps back, finds the seat there and sits to watch.

She's not even sure how long she sits there, watching him, waiting for something to happen, _anything_ to happen. It could have been five minutes or twenty or maybe three hours. But finally there's a small movement from the dog in the corner, just a small easing of the tension.

Her ears, which have been pinned to the side of her head, move forward just a bit. They stick out oddly from her scruffy head. And then she crawls forward.

Rumplestiltskin doesn't move.

He doesn't even look at her.

His eyes are shut, but she watches him take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing.  The dog creeps further out of the shadows. She can see that she's a scruffy thing, small, maybe some sort of terrier mix. Her body is still shaking, just a little, but the closer she gets to him, the fewer tremors race through her body.

And then she reaches his hand. He doesn't move, doesn't so much as twitch it. His eyes half open and Belle holds her breath. She doesn't know what the dog will do, doesn't know dogs after all.

The dog leans forward and touches her nose to Rumplestiltskin's hand. He turns it upside down and she jumps back just slightly before coming forward to touch her nose to it again. He twitches his fingers, touching her fur just slightly and she leans into it, the dog who has never known a moment's kindness finally feeling just a tiny bit.

And then in a flurry of fur and legs and nose, the dog is in Rumplestiltskin's lap, upside down, and her tail wags once or twice.

"How did you…" She can't quite get the words out. _How did you_ do _that?_ It wasn't magic. No magic could make such a creature drop its defenses.

"Magic," he says and she can see the quirk of his lips.

“I know it wasn’t magic,” she says with slightly narrowed eyes and watches his smile widen.

“I did say I’d known a sheepdog or two, didn’t I?” And he had, she realizes. It seems like another lifetime when he had bent down to Dr. Hopper’s Dalmatian and spoken so quietly and kindly to him. A lifetime ago when everything was _good_ and there were no other concerns except the here and now. Now there’s so much more. A child on the way, a husband who seems to have accepted who he truly is, and _her_.

She’s not sure where she stands. She wants to be sure, remembering when she was in love with the imp. When _had_ she stopped accepting him for who he was? She remembers telling his son, once so long ago, that she loved even the dark parts of him. What happened to that woman? She had been blinded, sometime in the intervening months. Blinded by hero worship and being told she should be _just like them_ , blinded by wanting to _fit in_.

No more.

She has a child to raise.

And a husband who needs to be a part of her life, a part of _their_ lives.

“So now what?” Belle steps closer and squats down. The dog looks at her warily for a moment before leaning her head out toward her and sniffing. Belle doesn’t move, just waits. And then the dog pushes at her hand with her nose. “She…”

“Wants you to pet her, yes,” he finishes for her.

When Belle reaches out and lets her hand touch the side of the scruffy little neck, the world around them seems to explode. Light hits them and she blinks her eyes hard to see through it. It’s different this time. She’s not sure how. The rainbow of colors is still there but they’re faded. Or maybe brighter, a mix of many colors with an overlay of bright white.

Rumplestiltskin holds out a hand to her and together they pull themselves to their feet. He’s still holding the dog, cradling her in his arms like she’s a child. And she lays there, still but curious, comfortable with eyes trained on the light. Belle watches her shift slightly as a dark spot appears.

It grows larger and she finds herself backing up a pace. Rumplestiltskin releases her hand and she immediately wraps it around his arm, clinging to him as the darkness expands and finally forms itself into a person.

She steps out of the light, though there's still a softness to her, as if she's not quite _there_. Almost as soon as she materializes, the dog leaps out of Rumplestiltskin's arms and goes to her, rubbing up against her legs, almost more cat than dog.

"Ah, there you are little one." The woman's voice is quiet, soothing. Even Belle finds she wants to go to her. The woman kneels before the dog and the dog leans into her. "I see you've found love at last." With those words she looks up briefly, her eyes touching first Rumplestiltskin and then Belle.

"Who are you?" Belle finally asks.

The woman's eyes fall on her again and her smile is serene. "You don't know then?"

"No." She shakes her head as she speaks, eyebrows drawn together.

"I care for all the unwanted ones." She strokes the dog's fur. Gentle. Tender. And then finally stands. "Thank you." She sweeps one hand across them and Belle realizes she means the empty cages, the dogs who have already gone home. There's only this last one left and she's cradled in the woman's arms like she's the most precious of creatures.

She says nothing more, just smiles at them. There's a flash of light, rainbow then white, and when Belle opens her eyes again, she's gone. The dog's gone. And the kennel is now empty, devoid of all canine life.

Belle blinks, glances around herself for a moment and then finally, she cannot stop herself from smiling. "We did it!" She's in Rumplestiltskin's arms a moment later and he's holding her close, protectively, one hand at the small of her back. His cheek is pressed to hers and she can feel his lips turn up in a smile.

"We did it," he answers. And she knows there's still so much to do. They have to save their baby, fight their way home, but this…this feels _good_. There's a chance, still. For them. For happiness together. As she hugs him closer, holding tight to him, she knows this is the new beginning they've been looking for.

“When we get home, we’re getting a dog.” The words are murmured into his neck and she’s rewarded with his deep rumbling laugh.

“Anything you want, my love.” His hug tightens just a bit. “Anything at all.” 


End file.
